Thursday, March 24, 2016

SOLSC Day 24: Colliding Lives

My lives collided this afternoon. Have I
mentioned that I seem to be living three lives simultaneously? There’s the life
of memory and the past, remembering Jack andrandom thoughts, experiences, stories. There’s my life now, moving on,
on my own. Then there’s the imaginary life of what Jack would have thought,
liked, hated, what we would have talked and argued about.

Today the
life when Jack was still alive and the life when he isn’t crashed together when
I ran into an acquaintance in our neighborhood. I was at Mondel’s buying custom
chocolate Easter eggs, and the husband of a woman who I first met at the
sandbox when our kids were toddlers came in. I’d probably last seen them in
November, after Jack had fallen at home.

“How’s he
doing?” the neighbor asked. My heart clutched. He didn’t know, and I had to
tell him.

I hate
these moments. Later today I’m getting a refresher with my physical therapist,
whose colleague treated Jack over the past two years. I will have to tell him,
but I’ve been preparing myself. In Mondel’s, it was unexpected. I told him, he
was shocked and sorry, and I left the store. But I had to sit down outside on a
street bench to put myself back together. These moments, when the life when
Jack was alive and the life when he isn’t collide suddenly, feel like the
emotional atoms of my being have scattered like pool balls. I need to gather
them back into the frame of my body.

10 comments:

I so sorry for your loss. It is tough when our multiple lives collide, especially when there is no warning or cushion to soften the blow. Hoping your emotional atoms are gathered and you are on your way again.

Emma, such a powerful story. Are you familiar with Bonnie Kaplan, a blogger who also recently lost a husband? She chronicles her grief journey through letters to T. It's the unexpected times that grief grabs us that are the most difficult.

I am so sorry your Jack died. It really does feel like two worlds, your story is so powerful. I could feel the worlds colliding when he asked you how your husband was. The unexpected questions versus the expected ones. Your last sentence is so visual and an deep expression of grief. "I need to gather them back into the frame of my body." xoPamela